#214 Buddy White - A Sad Story

I've known Buddy since he was a kitten in Waco, TX.  He grew up bigger and more cross-eyed than his three sisters, and he had a nice, deep meow that reminded me of a weed eater being fired up.  This last weekend I visited Houston and stayed at The Whites.  He normally sits on the couch next to me, digging his sharp claws into my skin and leaving specks of white fur all over my clothes.  This time, however, he remained still on his pillow at the far end of the couch.

"He's not been eating," CW said.  "He hasn't even been drinking water, recently."

We spent a good portion of the evening with Buddy.  We administered his diabetes meds and we tested his sugar levels, which looked good.  We put him in front of his food bowl, but he wasn't interested in eating.  We set him in front of his water.  He sniffed it, gave it an apathetic lick, and then returned to his cushion by the couch.

The next day CW took Buddy to the vet and learned that he suffered from cancer and a failing liver.  The vet ran all possible tests and determined that nothing could be done to save his life, and that the painful end was imminent.  Buddy was an old cat and his time had come.

It was a sad weekend.  It's always sad when a family losses a loved one.  The reason I'm telling this story is because I learned something important.  CW and his wife went into the room with Buddy.  They held him tightly, said their goodbyes, and were with him in his final moments.  They faced their grief head on and showed their love for Buddy, regardless of how hard it was.  This may seem like common sense thinking, but there are some who may not know how important it is to be with them until the very end.

No one likes death.  No one wants to die, but we all do.  The important thing is that we are surrounded by those we love when it's our turn.

#213 Missing The Point

Earlier this year, a widely known indie writer named JA Konrath participated in a debate over the following statement:  Amazon is the reader's friend.  JA Konrath agreed with the statement, believing that Amazon has proven over years of consistent business practices that they seek to keep prices low and their customers happy.  Readers, in this instance, qualify as customers.  Scott Turow disagreed with the statement, offering the alternate view that too much power in one entity's hands will not be good for anyone, readers and writers alike.

I watched the debate.  If you haven't seen it, and you care about the changing landscape of literature, then I suggest you watch it as well.  Here is a link, that also includes JA Konrath's thoughts on the debate.

I don't wish to dive into the points of the debate, as Konrath and Turow did a good job of that already.  But I do wish to talk about a problem I've noticed in our political system that this debate exemplified.  The problem is this:  the way we discuss major issues (the debate format) allows us to quibble over the specific words used to frame the argument, instead of focusing on the point of the argument itself.  Turow exemplifies this with his first argument in this debate when he says that Amazon is a company whose first priorities are to make money for its shareholders.  Thus, it cannot be a "friend" to anyone but itself.  Since the debate was framed around the statement: Amazon is the reader's friend, I believe Turow wins this debate on this single technicality.  He is correct.  The fact that it is a company means it cannot be a friend to anything but the bottom line.  Everything else is secondary.

But that misses the point of this gathering.  Konrath and Turow were not getting together to discuss whether or not a business can also be a friend to a particular segment of the population.  The heart of the debate was supposed to focus on whether or not Kindle Direct Publishing is good for readers and ultimately for literature.  Because of Turow's lawyer-esque manipulation of the statement (which he has a right to do under the debate format), no real progress was made in the debate.

I do not fault Turow for this.  I am trying to shed light on the vehicle of discussion, not Turow's specific argument here.  Because I see this technique of focusing on how something is poorly worded is used to ignore the point of a particular discussion, and in the end, no progress is made.

#212 The Far Side of Writing

There's an old Far Side cartoon with retired cartoonists sitting on a porch reminiscing about the old days.  One cartoonist, with his arms spread wide open, says to the others, "I once drew a nose this big!"

I've always liked this cartoon, probably because I have a big nose that only a cartoonist could love.  Now that I'm a full-time writer, however, this particular cartoon has taken on a new meaning for me.  I devote much of my time to my craft and only some of my time on self promotion.  I spend NO time with other writers, sharing the burdens creativity, solitude, insecurity, and hours trapped inside my own head can create.  I follow several writers on Twitter and will spend time perusing their tweets.  I take comfort in their messages and enjoy the occasional line back and forth.  I like the online culture exercised by hundreds, even thousands, of indie and traditionally published writers.  But it isn't enough.

I've joined a writer's group in Dallas, but the focus of this group is writing.  Not the writer.  We spend our time critiquing and discussing publishing like Sunday morning bible class.  I still go occasionally, and I'm happy to discuss stories with other writers.

But I'd like something a bit different.  I'd like something more personal.  I'd like to get to know other writers and share in their experiences as I would want them to share in mine.  I want to drink wine or beer and discuss the writer life.  The act of writing is a solitary endeavor.  But it seems to me that writers like to live and experience things.  So I'd rather be out with writers experiencing life instead of cooped up in a room discussing the proper way to write a query letter or the importance of active verbs.

I've begun searching meetup.com for other writers interested in something similar, but have only found writing groups focused on critiquing.  I've not yet posted my own meetup group, and don't know that I will.  Writers are a tricky breed, the porcupine of humanity, and I'm not sure how to coax one out without risk of serious injury.

#211 Eyebrows On Fleek

I went to get a haircut today.  After she finished, she spun me around and studied my face closely.  She focused on my eyebrows and said, "Do I normally trim your eyebrows?"  I shook my head.  "Well, honey," she said, "I'd recommend you let me take care of these for you."

I'd never had someone tell me how unruly my eyebrows were.  Well, except for my wife, who tells me how unruly everything is.  This woman had no qualms with telling me exactly how she saw me.  There was no fake politeness.  There was no rose-colored glasses.  There was only me and the simple fact that my eyebrows needed to be trimmed.  She wasn't gonna let a little thing like politeness get in the way of improving the way I look.

This exact relationship should exist between a writer and an editor.  There should be no fake politeness.  No rose-colored glasses.  The editor must focus on the writing and feel free to communicate the blemishes without reserve.  Feelings should not factor into the equation.  All that matters is the brutal truth.  If you aren't getting that, then you need to adjust your relationship with your editor.  Or consider finding another one.

The revision process is not an easy one.  But it's an important one.  You want your writing to look as good as it possibly can.  You want someone to look at your eyebrows and tell you they're out of control.  That way, you can get them cut so that they'll look like this:

#210 Identity Revisited, Again

I've written posts on identity and selling yourself as a writer.  And still, I find myself struggling with the concepts in my own life.  I write pretty much every day and I've published (indie-style) two books.  I am close to completing my third and am vigorously working on my fourth.  I've been at it more than a year and will dedicate the remainder of 2015 to getting more books out.  There is no doubt that I'm a writer.  Except for one teensy detail.  I don't yet make enough money to support myself.

That is one important detail.

We recently went to Vietnam for a two-week vacation.  We met several people on our travels.  Every conversation included the question, "What do you do?"  My wife answered, "Attorney," which garnered a polite smile and a respectful nod of the head.  I answered, "I'm a writer."  This never failed to bring a surprised expression and the follow up question, "Really?"

YES, really!

I don't take offense to the skepticism...I really don't.  Here's the problem.  Doubt exists within the mind of every working author.  And not just within the minds of budding authors like myself.  This includes the moderately successful ones, and I'm convinced it includes the super successful ones as well.  It's tough enough to say the words, "I'm a writer."  Yet for some reason we're made to say them twice.

I'm not trying to complain or change how people respond to writers they meet, both at home and abroad.  I wish to help writers.  So here is my advice: take ownership of the work you do.  Be proud.  Only a small percentage of people can do what we do, just as only a small percentage of people can play professional basketball.  Be confident.  And when someone says, "Really?  You're a writer?"  Nod your head and direct them to your book so that your work finds a reader.  Ultimately, this will lead to you making enough money to support yourself.

#209 Vietnam Vacation

Just got back from Vietnam.  Following are snippets from the trip:

• We arrived in Hanoi, and our first stop was Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum.  Ho Chi Minh died in 1969, and despite his wishes to be cremated, his remains have been professionally embalmed  in Russia and put on display in Hanoi.  A line stretched for more than a mile around the mausoleum and through Independence Square until it led inside a cold, dark chamber lined with military personnel, who urged us to keep moving.  We were in the room less than a minute.  The sight of Ho Chi Minh's body was as eerie and reverent as the sobbing women who had to be dragged away from his remains.
• The Water Puppets.  These were strange puppets in water.  Enough said.
• Hao Lo Prison.  We walked through the remaining sectors of an old prison dating back to the 1800s.  The prison was used primarily for political prisoners in the early 1900s.  But, it was the prison that housed American pilots who were shot down over Hanoi.  This includes John McCain and Butch's dad from Pulp Fiction.
• Drifting through Ha-Long Bay.  We stayed on a boat in a cabin at water level with our door open and the picturesque scenery drifting by.  One of the few places in the world where you simply sit and feel serene.  In the evening time a woman rowed up to our window and screamed at us that she had cheap beer.  She was from one of the nearby floating villages.  I bought a sixer.  When I tried to negotiate, she wouldn't budge.  Those stubborn, floating village people!
• Moped Street Food Tour.  We rode on the back of mopeds through the streets of Saigon, where guides took us to various street corners to try the local cuisine.  The food was interesting, and in some cases disgusting (fertilized duck egg...), but the value of the tour came with the guides. The guides were college students running the tour to make extra money.  They spoke good English and shared much of their personal lives with us as well as their culture.
• Chu Ci Tunnels outside of Saigon.  This was perhaps the most interesting and historically significant part of my vacation.  For nearly 20 years, Vietnamese fighters lived and operated below ground while American forces bombed and sprayed herbicides across the jungle.  Their guerrilla tactics included miles and miles of underground tunnels connecting villages to strategic wartime targets.  L. and I crawled through the tunnels, and it was a unique and terrifying experience.
• Many Vietnamese people we spoke with declared rice was 75% of local population's diet.  But most restaurants and street vendors served 15 different noodle dishes and only one or two rice dishes.
• Dong is the national currency.  So we saw "Dongs" everywhere we went.  
• Buddhist nation with only a handful of buddhist temples.  Not like other nations we visited in southeast asia.